


Loyal to His Side

by Ace_Of_Clubs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are the worst, Aziraphale is in love with the World (and maybe a little bit with Crowley too), But diverges from canon before Aziraphale can contact The Metatron, Episode 4: Saturday Morning Funtime, Existential Crisis, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, This takes place after Crowley asks Aziraphale to run away with him the second time, not you Aziraphale you are a sweetheart and we're thrilled you're here, nothing graphic but I'll tag anyways just to be safe, religious themes (duh)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Clubs/pseuds/Ace_Of_Clubs
Summary: Instead of ambushing Aziraphale in the middle of the street, the angels are waiting for him at the bookshop. Confronted with the evidence of his lies and disobedience, Aziraphale is asked to prove his loyalty to Heaven once and for all.





	Loyal to His Side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Good Omens ff, but hopefully it won't be the last. I've been in love with the book for years, and I think the Tv Series was absolutely brilliant! I have a lot of plans for our beloved Aziraphale and Crowley, and luckily not all of them are angsty like this one.
> 
> A big Thank You to my friend June for being my beta. English is not my first language, and I hope she managed to catch all the mistakes I may have made. If that's not the case, I apologise!

Aziraphale walked slowly, despite the fact that the End of the World was just around the corner. He needed to clear his head, remind himself that he had made the right choice. 

He _had_ made the right choice. There were no reasons for him to feel guilty. He was an angel, he couldn’t just… _elope_ with a demon, fly away to Alpha Centauri and leave Earth to burn behind them. 

It had been Crowley’s idea to try and stop the Apocalypse in the first place, and now _he_ was the one abandoning ship mere hours before it sank? Aziraphale shouldn’t have expected anything different from an agent of Hell, a literal slithering snake, a… 

A… 

Although, Aziraphale could understand how Crowley could have lost all hope. Their original plan had gone south, time was running out, and Crowley didn’t know that he had managed to locate the Antichrist. Because Aziraphale had lied to him about it. 

Another pang of guilt. The angel realised he was picking at his nails, and forced himself to stop. 

_I am doing the right thing._

If Crowley’s superiors had found out the truth, maybe running away really was the best option for him. Demons weren’t know to be lenient or merciful, and Aziraphale didn’t want to imagine what sorts of punishments Hell could dish out on its own people for treason. 

It had been… kind, of Crowley, to ask Aziraphale to go with him, _twice_ , instead of just disappearing without a goodbye. Hopefully, he would be halfway across the Solar System by now. If, somehow, everything ended up well and the world was still around tomorrow, Aziraphale could go and look for him, bring him back home. 

But he couldn’t leave now. Not until he spoke to God. 

Aziraphale believed -he had to believe- that if he was only given the chance to make a case for the Earth, She would understand. She was the Maker, the Almighty, made of Love and Mercy and Forgiveness… And _sure_ , there had been the occasional massacre or flood in the past, but not in a very long time! Her mood had improved considerably, ever since She had a son. 

She could stop this madness before it was too late. 

Aziraphale finally reached the bookshop, and locked himself inside. Contacting The Metatron was not going to be easy, and it cold be very dangerous, so he had to make sure he wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Now, if he could only remember where he had put his holy candles, he would be ready to- 

“Hello, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale yelped, and turned around to face the two angels that had appeared in the middle of the room. 

_Oh, Lord…_

“Gabriel! Michael! What do you- what can I do for you?” He smiled as politely as possible, clasping his hands behind his back to stop himself from fidgeting nervously. “How are the preparations for the Big Event going? Not long now! Everyone getting ready for some demon-smiting?” 

They were letting him ramble. Something was wrong. 

“Yes, not long now indeed,” said Gabriel, the smile on his face a little too wide. “We’ve come to escort you Upstairs, now that your duties on Earth are officially over. It’s time for you to take charge of your troops!” 

“Ah!” 

This was bad. Aziraphale needed to find a way to buy himself some more time. If they took him back now, it was over. _Everything_ was over. 

“I am honoured, truly, that such important Archangels would take the time to accompany me, personally. It must be very busy in Heaven right now, mustn’t it? I wouldn’t want to waste your time. You should proceed, I’ll be right behind you! I just need to… Ah… Tie up some loose ends down here, first, make sure everything is tip-top shape. For the War, I mean.” 

“Don’t be so modest, Aziraphale,” Michael said. Her smile was even more unsettling than Gabriel’s. “After everything you have accomplished as Heaven’s agent on Earth for six thousand years, you definitely deserve the _personal_ attention.” 

“Exactly!” Gabriel clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “But you are right, there are some loose ends to tie up, before we can go. We just need you to clarify something for us, real quick.” 

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, his uneasiness growing stronger. “What- what is it?” 

Gabriel and Michael shared a brief look, then Michael called out, “Bring him in.” 

Aziraphale turned his head. Uriel and Sandalphon walked in from the back of the store, holding a third person between them, and Aziraphale’s blood run cold. 

Crowley’s face was bruised, his glasses had been knocked off, exposing a pair of eyes that were larger and more reptilian than usual. The demon was gagged, and his hands were tied up in front of him with a rope that shined with heavenly light - _blessed_ , so that he couldn’t use his powers to get away. 

It had to burn terribly. 

Aziraphale’s mind filled with white noise, his insides twisting, like that time he had accidentally eaten some spoiled sushi. Except now he couldn’t simply miracle the feeling away. 

_They found out._

It… It couldn’t be! Six thousand years, why did this have to happen _now_? 

“What-“ Aziraphale tried to say, but his thoughts were all muddled, the words stuck in his throat. 

Crowley looked scared, although it wouldn’t be obvious to everyone. He was standing perfectly still, while normally he would be constantly moving, twitching his hands and shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Even his eyes were motionless, fixed on a spot on the wall behind him, feigning nonchalance.

_Pull yourself together, Aziraphale, or you are both done for._

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from Crowley and turned to Gabriel, summoning the most confused and offended expression he could muster. 

“What is the meaning of this? What is that _thing_ doing in my bookshop?” 

Whatever accusation they were about to make, he was going to deny everything. There was no time for a trial, not when the Apocalypse was about to start. If Aziraphale played his cards right, they would have to postpone the matter until the War was over. 

They would… They would _have_ keep Crowley alive, too. As evidence or witness or something. 

That would buy him some time to come out with a better plan. 

Gabriel’s eyes were cold, filled with fury and betrayal. “I was hoping you could answer that question, Aziraphale. He’s been here before, I can recognise his evil stench now. Not Jeffrey Archer’s books, after all.” 

“You’ve been a bit of a Fallen angel, haven’t you?” Michael said, tilting her head towards Crowley with a sneer. “Consorting with the enemy?” 

“Con- I haven’t been _consorting_!” Aziraphale gave a stifle laugh, trying to sound like someone who was starting to suspect this was all a silly joke. Nobody laughed with him.

“Is it just a coincidence, then, that we caught him driving away not too far from here?” 

“I don’t assume to know what demons are up to. Maybe he was… Maybe he was _spying_ on me! We should probably interrogate him.”

He looked back at Crowley, whose stare was still fixed on the same spot. If only Aziraphale could convince him to cooperate… Crowley didn’t believe Heaven could ever forgive him, but if he shared enough information about Hell and asked for asylum, surely they would-

“Interrogate him, uh? I actually think that’s an excellent idea.”

Uriel pushed Crowley to his knees roughly, then grabbed his shoulder. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Crowley was _screaming_ , trying to twist away from her touch only to bump into Sandalphon, who held him still.

All of Aziraphale’s efforts to keep it together were overpowered by a wave of shock and panic.

“Stop! What are you doing? _Stop that right now_!”

Uriel let Crowley go, and Crowley fell forward, panting, barely managing to hold himself up with his bound hands. Uriel had never took her eyes away from Aziraphale, and now she dared to smile at him.

“What do you mean? I am interrogating him. Unless _you_ wanted to do the honours?”

Aziraphale could smell Crowley’s wound, a mix of burnt flesh and blood and sulphur.

This… This was not what he had meant. 

Had Uriel lost her mind? She was an angel, she couldn’t just _torture_ people! Not even demons. That was not something angels did. They may be warriors, executioners even, if the occasion called for it, but angels weren’t torturers. 

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel, and this time his outrage was sincere.

“How can you allow this? This is not what Heaven is about!”

“Cut the _crap_ , would you?” Gabriel’s outburst was so violent and unexpected that Aziraphale flinched back. “You dare to lecture _me_ on what Heaven is about? We know you have been colluding with the demon, we have proof.”

“Some quite literally _damning_ evidence,” added Michael, pulling a bunch of photographs out of the air and handing them to Aziraphale. They were pictures of him and Crowley together, of their meetings through the centuries.

“So, are you going to tell us what have you been up to, now?” Gabriel continued. “Or do we need to interrogate _you_ next?”

From the ground, Crowley grumbled behind the gag, and Aziraphale wondered how much pain he was in. Their bodies were not invulnerable in the first place, but angel light would have harmed _him_ , not just his vessel. 

The demon met his eyes for the first time, and Aziraphale didn’t know what to say. 

If their places were reversed, Crowley would be capable of talking his way out of this. He’d always had a way with words. He would probably come out with some crazy explanation, just plausible enough to plant a seed of doubt in the others’ minds, and then he’d create some big distraction and get both himself and Aziraphale to safety. Like he had done so many times in the past, whenever Aziraphale had gotten himself in some trouble.

But Aziraphale wasn’t like that. He wasn’t good at lying. The only reason he had gotten away with hiding his relationship with Crowley for so long was that nobody had ever even considered suspecting him before. Now Crowley was the one in danger, and he was going to let him down.

This was exactly what he had been afraid of, ever since they made the Arrangement. Yet, he had always thought that such a violent reaction could come from Hell, not his own people!

It wasn’t like he had Fallen, after all. He may have had a few… _concerns_ , over the years, about some of their policies, about the Plan, but he had still done his job. 

Aziraphale had loved the humans. That was the one Big Thing angels were supposed to do. He had protected them and led them in the right direction. And maybe he hadn’t always given his _best_ , but only because he had realized pretty early on that nothing he could do would ever match the goodness and selflessness and love humans themselves were capable of –just as Crowley could have never matched their cruelty, not even if he had actually tried to. 

Gabriel and the other angels… They must have misunderstood. They must be thinking he had _betrayed_ Heaven, and that was why they were reacting like this.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need to. Maybe he could still fix this.

“I haven’t defected,” he began, speaking as calmly as he could manage. “I have _not_ been working for Hell, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We know that, actually,” Uriel said. “And apparently neither is your friend here. He’s in trouble with his bosses, too.”

Next to her, Sandalphon nodded, smiling, as usual, as he had never actually figured out what a smile was supposed to look like. 

“The two of you have been playing both sides, it would seem.”

“No, _no_!” Aziraphale argued, growing frustrated. “I haven’t been playing anyone! Listen. I admit it, I haven’t always been… _completely_ honest. I covered up my encounters with Crowley, because I knew what it would have looked like. But they were just that, encounters. Innocent conversations. There was no collusion, I _swear_ it.”

“Innocent conversations?” Gabriel repeated, looking disgusted. “He’s the enemy, Aziraphale, you should have destroyed him, not having causal chit-chats! What in Heaven possessed you to fraternize with such a low, evil creature?”

“But he’s not! Not really…”

Michael snorted skeptically. “Please. We know all about Crowley’s accomplishments, he used to be one of Hell’s favourites. He inspired wars, dictators, conquerors… The Spanish Inquisition.”

Aziraphale hesitated. 

There weren’t any reasons to keep protecting Crowley’s reputation, since Hell was already out to kill him. Crowley wasn’t going to like it, but if the truth could redeem him in Heaven’s eyes… It was a chance Aziraphale had to take.

“He… Crowley didn’t do any of that, actually.”

A moment of silence. Then-

“Enough with your lies.”

“I’m not lying! You found out about these already,” Aziraphale threw the pictures Michael gave him at her feet. “If you dig up further, you will find proof of what I’m saying. Crowley had nothing to do with those events. He did cause some other things, mix-ups and inconveniences, mostly. But none of that violent, vicious business he claimed to have invented.”

The angels looked unsure now, and confused. Aziraphale didn’t dare to look at Crowley’s expression.

“But… If _he_ didn’t do it,” said Sandalphon, “then who did?”

“No one.” Aziraphale said. “Well, not no one. Humans did. All by themselves!”

More silence. It stretched out for longer this time, charged with tension, and Aziraphale was sure that if he were mortal, his heart would be beating out of his chest.

“The humans…” Gabriel said eventually. “They came up with all those torture devices?”

“Yes.”

“And the gas chambers?”

“That’s correct.”

Gabriel looked sincerely upset, and Aziraphale almost felt sorry for him.

“And you still advocated for them? You claimed they deserve to survive, that Earth shouldn’t be destroyed?”

“I did. And I stand by it.” 

Aziraphale straightened his posture, and clasped his hands behind his back once again. He had been rehearsing the speech in his mind for God, but he may as well say it now.

“Because for every way humans find to make each other’s lives worst, they also find a way to make them better. I’ve seen people drop everything and run into action to help a stranger, or to protest an injustice, or… or to save a stranded whale, without expecting any reward. But it’s more than that. Just look around!”

Aziraphale made a wide gesture with his hand, and the angels followed it with their eyes, looking lost.

“They left the Garden of Eden with nothing, and look at all they have created! The buildings, the clothes, the books, the art, the _food_ … We could have never dreamed of all this stuff in Heaven, but humans did, and they made it happen. They found so many ways to make the world beautiful, rich, and colourful. And they make mistakes, that’s true, and they can be evil, too. But I believe they deserve the chance to evolve, to better themselves, to… to be forgiven.” 

He looked at Crowley. 

“I think _everyone_ does.”

The demon was staring at him, and he looked shocked, and maybe a little impressed, but also immensely sad. Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of it. 

He turned back to Gabriel. The Archangel seemed to be studying him, brow furrowed and eyes sharp, likely searching for deception on Azirahale’s face. Aziraphale pressed on. 

“But that can’t happen if the world ends today. They won’t be able to grow anymore, and everything will just stay the same, forever. We can’t allow that to happen, Gabriel.”

The two angels stared at each other for a long time.

“You really mean it? _All_ of it?” Gabriel asked at last, his eyes moving meaningfully to Crowley as he spoke.

Aziraphale swallowed, but still he raised his head with conviction as he answered.

“I do.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, then he turned around, deep in thought. 

Nervously, Aziraphale studied the other three angels’ expressions. Michael’s face was inscrutable, but her eyes were shining as if she was excited. Sandalphon still looked utterly confused. Uriel looked disgusted. Aziraphale was grateful his sentence wasn’t up to her. 

“I blame myself for this,” Gabriel said suddenly. Sandalphon gasped.

“Sir, this is _not_ your-“

“Hush!” Gabriel snapped, and silence fell in the bookshop. “It _is_ my fault. I was responsible for assigning an agent to Earth, and for their supervision. I should have never allowed any angel to stay on this miserable planet for so long. It has obviously corrupted him.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. For a moment, he had actually hoped… Why couldn’t he _understand_?

“Gabriel-“

“I. Said. _Hush_.” Gabriel pointed his finger at him threatening, and then laughed, without any joy. “You know what the sad part is? I truly believe that you think you’re doing the right thing. That’s your problem, Aziraphale, you _think_ too much. You lost sight of the big picture. All of ‘this’?” He made a gesture with his hand, mimicking Aziraphale’s movements from earlier. “It always had an expiring date, it doesn’t matter how the humans decided to decorate it. That is God’s plan, and _you_ don’t get to question God’s plan.” 

Those words scorched Aziraphale like Hell Fire. How many times had he used the same argument while talking with Crowley? 

And he had really believed it. He still believed it, in a way. If only he could have talked to God, asked if there was a different interpretation, a different _way_ … But that was out of question now, Gabriel was never going to allow him to speak with Her.

The Archangel had started pacing, obviously frustrated. 

Angels weren’t built for making quick decisions. Back in the 1980s, when computers were first introduced in Heaven’s Souls Filing System, it had taken four years just to choose which font should be used for official documents. Now, with the Apocalypse so close, Gabriel may not even have four _minutes_ to decide Aziraphale’s fate.

Almost as to prove that point, suddenly the bookshop filled with light from Above, and the sound of celestial horns playing somewhere in the distance. It was beginning. 

Gabriel huffed with exasperation. “Alright. This is what we’re going to do.”

All the angels straightened their backs, Aziraphale included. 

“We’re all going back Upstairs, and _you_ ,“ he pointed at Aziraphale, “will be locked up somewhere, out of the way. After we win the War, there will be a formal investigation. We’ll dig up further into Earth observation files, and if you lied or hid something from us, we _will_ find out.”

Aziraphale thought of the Arrangement. He was going to have a hard time justifying that.

“If by the end,” Gabriel continued, “I determine that this whole... _rebellious_ attitude of yours, was really caused by of some misguided, twisted ‘good intentions’, you _may_ not be executed for treason. Are you going to cooperate?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but wince. He wasn’t a traitor! He never _meant_ to be.

_Funny, hasn’t Crowley said something similar, once?_

Aziraphale swallowed, trying not to look terrified, and nodded. 

At least Gabriel didn’t seem to actively want him dead. And a formal investigation meant he would still have a chance to make a case for himself, and for Crowley. Other angels were going to be involved in the process, maybe some of them would turn out to be more sympathetic. It wasn’t over yet. 

Except, most probably, for Earth. 

Everything inside Aziraphale rebelled against that thought. He didn’t want to give up yet, but what else could he do? Everything he had tried so far had failed, and there wasn’t enough time to come out with a new plan. 

“Good,” Gabriel said sternly, straightening his jacket. “Now, kill the demon.”

For a long moment, it felt like time had stopped. 

Maybe it really had. Aziraphale could have easily done it by accident. 

But most likely, it was just one of those natural phenomenon humans described sometimes, when something happened that was simply too much to take all at once, and the world seemed to slow down to give you a chance to catch up.

“What,” Aziraphale said, knowing he would sound stupid, but incapable of helping himself. 

This couldn’t be happening. There had to be a way to dissuade them, there _had_ to-

“You heard me. Kill him.”

“But… But he _didn’t-_ “

“He’s a _demon_ ,” Gabriel said, raising his voice. “A really shitty demon, according to what you said, but a demon nonetheless. His fate has been sealed the moment he Fell. But yours hasn’t, not _yet_. I am giving you a chance to prove you can still follow orders, despite all your ridiculous opinions on ‘beauty’ and ‘forgiveness’, and I advise you not to waste it. Michael, give him a weapon.”

A loud sound, like a crack of thunder, and then Michael was holding a large, beautifully crafted Spear. 

It was made of some unearthly, silver-like material, and on its head danced thousands of tiny lightings, resembling the sky during a storm. Like the flaming sword Aziraphale once had, it was a weapon designed to destroy supernatural creatures, such as rebel angels and, consequently, demons.

Smiling almost fondly at it, Michael approached Aziraphale and handed him the Spear. His hands shook as he grabbed it. 

“I don’t have time for this nonsense anymore,” Gabriel said then. “We actually have a _War_ to win. Sandalphon, Uriel, you’re with me. Michael, make sure he goes through with it, then bring him Upstairs. It will be cleaner to do the killing here, since it’s all going to burn anyways. No need to waste anyone’s time scrubbing demon goo from our floors.”

“Pity,” said Uriel, as she and Sandalphon joined Gabriel at his side. “I would have enjoyed watching Aziraphale turn his boyfriend into goo.”

As the three angels disappeared in a flash of light, Uriel winked at him, and for the first time in six thousand years Aziraphale felt _hate_. 

It only lasted a couple of seconds, though, and soon the emotion faded into nothing. Even his terror had subsided, replaced by nausea and a sense of numbness. 

He didn’t know what to do. Something had broken inside him, crushed by Uriel’s cruelty, by Gabriel’s complete disregard for human’s lives and accomplishments, by their _violence_. Angels were supposed to be the good guys. Had it always been like this, and somehow he never noticed?

Maybe he really had stayed on Earth for too long.

A muffled groan caught Aziraphale’s attention. Crowley was staring at him with odd determination, grumbling something that sounded vaguely like “ _angel_ ”. His shoulder didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, but the smell of burning flesh had gotten worse, and Aziraphale desperately wanted to heal him, to get those awful ropes off him. But he didn’t dare to, not with Michael standing right there, probably waiting for an excuse to kill them both.

As soon as his eyes locked on Aziraphale’s, Crowley nodded. Aziraphale didn’t know what it meant, until Crowley looked meaningfully at the Spear in his hand, then back at him. His face softened, in a very un-demonic way, and he nodded again.

Aziraphale’s heart shattered.

Even now, Crowley was trying to save him. Giving him his… his _blessing_ , his permission to murder him. 

And although he really didn't want to, in that moment Aziraphale couldn't help but picture it. Did demons really turned into goo, when they died? He wouldn't know. When they fought each other the first time, they had all been angels, too.

“You know,” Michael said abruptly, and Aziraphale welcomed the distraction. “I almost admire you.”

Aziraphale frowned. Was this a trick of some sort? A trap?

Michael smiled.

“Oh, don’t make that face. I really mean it.” 

Michael leaned backwards against one of the bookshelves. In six thousand years, he had never seen her look this… _relaxed_. It was jarring. 

“How so?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well, I always thought you were a bit of a pushover. A wimp, even. Gabriel’s good, little soldier. Instead, it turns out you’ve been disobeying orders for centuries, gallivanting around with a demon, and shamelessly lying to our faces about it. That takes guts.”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to think. Archangels weren’t supposed to be impressed with acts of rebellion, they were supposed to crush them. And Michael had always been so stern, so proper…

But nothing was like it was supposed to be, anymore.

“I wouldn’t assume,” Aziraphale said, cautiously, “that I could persuade you to reconsider Crowley’s sentence, in light of your… admiration?”

Michael laughed, sounding sincerely amused. Her eyes, though, had turned vicious. 

“No, I’m afraid you’re not getting out of this. You see, Aziraphale, I may approve of thinking outside the box, and even the use of unconventional methods, if it gets the job done. But at the end of the day, unlike you, _I_ am loyal to my side.”

Those words, more than anything that had happened so far, hit something deep inside Aziraphale, and suddenly he didn’t feel numb anymore. 

On the contrary, he was probably thinking more clearly than he had in a very long time. Just like that, the road to take was right in front of him, clear as day, as if it had always been there. 

Thinking about it, he realized that it had. His fingers tightened around the Spear.

Slowly, Aziraphale walked towards Crowley, stopping just a step before him. The demon looked up at him, wearing a puzzled expression, and Aziraphale wondered what he saw. He had never felt this sure of himself in all his life, nor this high on adrenaline, and he had no idea of what his face looked like at the moment.

“You’re wrong,” Aziraphale said softly, but loud enough for Michael to hear. “I _am_ loyal to my side.”

He turned around. 

“The rest of you can go _fuck_ yourselves.” 

With the quick, powerful movement of someone who used to be a soldier before being the owner of a bookshop, Aziraphale aimed the Spear at Michael’s chest and threw it. 

Maybe demons turned into goo when they died, Aziraphale would never find out. Angels, however, did not. When an angel died, all the Light and Grace inside them were released in a huge, destructive explosion, and Aziraphale didn’t wait for that to happen. 

As soon as he had thrown the Spear he turned to grab Crowley, he spread his wings, and flew away.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this!  
> I do plan to write a second chapter, from Crowley's pov, to deal with the aftermath of this scene. But I don't know when I'll be able to write it since I have some University obligations, and also a couple of other stories I'd like to explore, first. So for now I'll mark this story as complete, and eventually a second chapter will be added in a second moment.  
> Please consider leaving me a comment, as it may fuel me to write a hundred chapters more!


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